


Overwatch Drabble Collection

by CausticAcid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendly Rivalry, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Multi, Pining, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CausticAcid/pseuds/CausticAcid
Summary: A collection of drabbles from a little game that a friend of mine and I started. Could be anything from fluff to angst. No smut planned, but who knows?





	1. Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! First time posting anything on here, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Breakfast

Symmetra realized long ago that breakfast meant something different to everyone. Pharah and Ana ate with military efficiency, food spread almost as if from an MRE. 'Much like myself'. She mused. Her own organization perfect, and set up by food group and in order of taste preference. Eyeing the other team members, she sighed quietly. McCree and Tracer seemed to take great pride in eating foods that hardly constituted health, microwaved everything, from burritos to fish sticks. Disgusting. Simply disgusting. 'At least they eat I suppose.' Her thoughts drifted to the others, Reinhardt, Zarya and Roadhog all piling plates full of whatever food was available. 'I suppose with the amount of time they spend working out, the caloric intake is necessary. Yet I still find it unsettling just how much they can consume.' As she absentmindedly played with her food, her thoughts drifted to Junkrat, possibly the oddest of the group in regards to eating. 'I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat…' a soft frown graced her features at the thought.'How does he take care of himself if he does not eat? He must consume something…' She stood from her breakfast, a nearly full plate in front of her. 'I suppose I must find him, and make sure he eats something. He is hardly useful to anyone if he is starving.' She marches off, her unfinished plate of breakfast in hand. “Now where could he be…?” She mutters softly under her breath, heading towards the male barracks. 

Junkrat absentmindedly toyed with a grenade, throwing it between his hands as he stared at the hastily drawn plans from the night before. 'How long have I been doin’ this? Must be at least a few hours… He scratched at his chin, before sighing and putting the grenade on his bedside table and getting up to find something to sate himself. Ain’t ate in… must be at least a couple days. Huh. Didn’t even notice. Roadie didn’t even tell me ta.' As he opened his door, his face twisted into shock. Symmetra was at his door, holding a plate of food. “Uh….” Was about all he could manage to say. For once the rambling junker had no words. 

Symmetra seemed equally startled, not expecting him to come out of his room so suddenly. “Ah Junkrat!” Her voice was a tad shaken. “I had not seen you at breakfast and thought perhaps you needed food. I hope you do not mind?” He seemed taken aback at the gesture. As though no one had done this for him before. “R-really ‘Metra? Wasn’t really ‘spectin anyone ta visit. Much less with… whatever kinda food ya brought.” His grin was nervous, plain and simple. “I mean thanks an’ all, but what possessed ya ta come feed me?” She wasn’t exactly the kind of person he expected within ten feet of him in most situations, and life as a junker had made him wary of gifts. Her response surprised him; “Oh, well I had not seen you eat for several days. I merely assumed you had been too caught up in your… work.” She was well known for her dislike of his explosive devices, each one seeming far too haphazard and unstable when compared to her hard light. He grinned. “Well… cheers then! Y’right, I ain’t eaten in a bit. Prolly a day or two actually.” 'Least it ain’t almost a week like last time.' Junkrat mused to himself. She held the food out to him, an expectant look in her eyes. “You should eat then, I- we! We, the team, need you to be in good health.” Not quite catching her slip, he took the plate and ducked back into his room. “Thanks again ‘Metra! See ya in the workshop later maybe?” Not waiting for an answer, he dug ravenously into his food. Much like a wild animal or starving man, which made sense under the circumstances. She merely shook her head, turning away from the rather disgusting sight. “Of course. You are hardly the only one who needs to stockpile resources.” She strode away after closing his door, finally allowing a faint smile to grasp her lips. 'Maybe I should take it upon myself to make sure he eats. He’s… tolerable, at least when he’s not shouting or causing mayhem.' 

For the rest of her day, she thought only of work, and the genuine smile he gave her when she gave him her food. Unbeknownst to her, this meant the world to Junkrat. In what’s left of Australia’s outback, you only share food with those you truly care about.


	2. Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reinhardt thinks about his young rival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! Just in case anyone wanted more.

Rivalry

 

Reinhardt sighed deeply, running his hands over his sore muscles in hopes of alleviating some of his pain. Days like today reminded him of just how old he was getting. However, that didn't mean he would just step aside. He'd finally found a worthy challenge in Zarya. The Russian woman was his equal in nearly every aspect. Their attempts to one up each other had gotten downright ridiculous as a result. From seeing who's shields could handle the full force of Roadhog, to whom could carry the other around the base for longer, to whom could most easily drive the others insane. (He'd won. No one seemed to appreciate Hasselhoff the way he did.) Honestly it made him feel decades younger, to have such a powerful, yet reliable rival. There were few others he'd rather charge headlong into battle with than the pink haired warrior, who had fast become his greatest rival, and one of his best friends.


	3. Pessimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack is a jaded old man, Angela is reminiscing over bad memories, and they finally meet back up after six years.

Pessimism  
Jack

Dying has a weird way of making you a different person. From the first moment that you realize that you’re still kicking, even when no one else does, it changes how you look at things. Jack’s cold realization that he was essentially alone, betrayed by his best friend and his family scattered by the PETRAS act. The fallout from his fight with Gabe had resounding consequences. Even Angela, renowned as she was medically, was shipped off to god knows where. He found his thoughts lingered on her more now, as not being able to see her again weighed heavily on his mind. 'Probably doesn’t matter anyways. Not like much could come of it. She was too young then, and you’re too old now. Hell, you’ve been “dead” for six years now… She might’ve even forgot about you.' His thoughts always started to betray him before an Op. Old memories plagued him, brought his mood to a darker place, almost like he was channeling Gabe before their falling out. 'You couldn’t even save him. Couldn’t even convince him to change his mind.' He sighed as he checked his pulse rifle, pulling the slide and securing his visor. 'But now? I can’t be the man I was.' He smirked humorlessly behind his visor, his mind once again on Angela’s radiant face. 'Even if she never knows I’m alive, at least I know she’ll be fine.'

 

Angela

'Oh… I suppose I drifted off again. Perhaps not sleeping in favor of pouring over video files was a poor choice on my part.' She sleepily rubbed her eyes, barely awake. As she scanned her office, her eyes fell on the clock. 'Mein Gott! It’s nearly noon? We have to leave for the operation soon!' As she rose from her chair and made her way over to the communal showers, a thought struck her. 'Jack would never have let me stay up like this…' She smiled bitterly at the thought, stepping into the stall and turning the water up to a near scalding temperature. She tried hard not to think about him, but every once in a while, he popped up.' Scheisse. This is all I needed today. He’s gone Angela, he’s gone and he won’t be coming back. Focus on the mission. Just keep everyone alive, and capture Soldier 76.' She tried to hold her head high, but it soon fell as her thoughts lingered on him. Holding hands behind closed doors, stolen kisses that left them both breathless, and the inevitable reveal of their relationship. Everyone was so happy, that the two hardest working members had found someone to entrust themselves to. 'But we couldn’t stay happy could we? Everything had to fall apart in Geneva. He and Gabe killed each other for God knows what reason! And I couldn’t even save Gabe properly….' She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying in the shower, drowning herself in loss and old memories. She quickly finished her shower, slipping in to her Valkyrie suit, picking up Caduceus staff on her way out of her office. 'Still, I cannot falter. After all, on my watch, Heroes never Die.'

 

The Reunion

'More agents here than expected. Good thing I brought more biotic fields.' 76 calmly reloaded his rifle, peeking around the corner and seeing his pursuers turn away. 'Huh. What has their attention? They know I’m here…' The sound of a… tire? Reached his ears, followed by a near-deafening explosion. 'Who the hell is causing all this racket?!' He huffed and came around the corner, rifle shouldered and ready to fire, until he saw her, looking as angelic as the day he’d last seen her. “A-Angela…?”

Mercy came around the corner, keeping Junkrat in good health as he came bounding down the stairs to survey the destruction his RIP-tire caused. “Bloody oath, really tore ‘em up, eh Doc?” He giggled manically, only stopping when he heard the clatter of her staff hitting the floor. When he saw her face, she looked paler than a ghost. “Doc?” She could only utter one word in response. “Jack…?” Her knees threatened to give out as he moved closer, slinging his stolen rifle. “What’re you doing here? Overwatch is dead. You shouldn’t be here.” His tone was gruff, biting. Unable to see his eyes, she couldn’t see that he was honestly happy to see her. Her only response was a resounding slap that echoed off the walls, his visor being thrown away from the force. “Jack…. Fucking…. Morrison. How dare you?” Her mood had shifted from relief to fury. “You… You couldn’t even TRY to let us know? You’ve been cavorting around as some sort of vigilante, trying to fight the same fight as before but alone? We cried for you, all of us! We mourned you for weeks! Even the PETRAS act hurt less than burying you! Yet here you are, alive and well, with no thought for those you left behind?!” Her fury was palpable, bitter tears in her eyes. Jack however, had never been so daunted by someone in his life. “Angela I-.” She shot him a cold, hard stare. “Don’t. Just don’t. You don’t get to speak until I’ve said my piece. I loved you. I STILL love you, despite everything. Yet you stand here before me, no words for six years, and all I want from you is for you to look me in the eye and tell me why.” Her eyes shone with a light he hadn’t seen in years, cold determination mixed with a fury only attributed to Valkyries. “I…. Fine. I’ll tell you everything. After we finish here. We still have a mission after all. Then you get anything you want.” He looked so tired, but still as resolved to finish the fight as ever. “Let the team know you’ve found Soldier 76, and that he’ll come with you when we’re done. But we have a job to do. Talon needs to be dealt with.” He gave her a small smile as he reached down to get his visor. “Angela… I missed you.” He turned away, drawing his rifle and turning away from her. Her fury melted slightly, a smile growing at the evasive comment. He’d always say that when other people were around. He always said love was something to be said in private, or around trustworthy people, not on the battlefield. She retrieved her staff and followed him once more unto the breach, as she always would.

 

Junkrat viewed the scene with far more confusion than he was expecting. “Christ, thought they were gonna fight or go for a roll in the hay or somethin’. Never seen the Doc so mad in m’life. Just glad I kept me damn mouth shut, or she’d probably have flayed me.” He shook his head as he passed the message on that some old coot wearing a jacket with a big 76 on the back would be helping them finish this fight. Silly bird and her weird old man. One last sigh and he hobbled after them, hoping he could at least blow something else up today.


	4. Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena comes to terms with her feelings, even if she has to wait forever and where Widowmaker is her usual cold self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! Hope you all keep enjoying my little drabbles! I might try writing something more substantial soon so stay tuned! Also I'd like to thank my beta OfMeridian for their help!

Eternity

 

It felt like it had been forever. Tracer had been pining for so long, daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, Amélie would feel the same. The only obstacle in her way was Gérard, at least, back then. It'd been years since his death. Since Amélie... No. Since _Widowmaker_ had killed him. Since she'd been mindfucked, or whatever had been done to her.

"Don't bloody care..." she muttered under her breath, caressing an old picture of the two of them together. "Fuck. Why'd it hafta be you, love? Why you?"

She started to tear up as she slid the picture back under her pillow. She'd seen her since, more than a few times, but Widow never seemed to be able to kill her. She’d shot Tracer more than once, but it had never been more than a graze or flesh wound. It left her wondering if maybe... Maybe the old Amélie was still in there. She prayed she was, prayed harder than she had for anything in her life.

"Next time love... next time I'm bringing ya home. Can't keep doing this." She lay back on her bed, tears softly falling. " _Je t’aime_ , Amélie. An' I don't wanna keep waiting forever... But I will if I hafta. Long as it takes ta get you back."

 

 

Widowmaker gazed down her sights, catching a blur of orange out of the corner of her scope. "Ah. After me already? Poor _ch_ é _rie_." She smiled softly as she took a shot, grazing her cheek. She never could bring herself to put the pretty Brit in the ground. _Still eludes me as to why..._

A flash of memories caught her off guard. Tracer's hand in hers, a dinner with her, Gérard, and the others. The old Overwatch. The memories shook her so badly that she didn't even notice that she'd been snuck up on until she felt cold steel press into the back of her head.

"Gotcha, love."

Her reverie broken, she let out a shuddered breath. "So it would seem..." Her voice trailed off, turning to face her as golden eyes met chestnut ones. "And what do you do with prisoners, mon _ch_ é _rie_?" The seduction in her tone was evident, not to mention the look in her eyes. She'd use any weapon in her arsenal to escape. _Cherchez la femme_ , after all.

"Gonna have ta bring ya in, Amélie. We're gonna fix what they did t'ya." Tracer had to break eye contact as she spoke, clearly flustered. Her gun, however, did not waver.

"Oh, Lena." She chuckled darkly. "You cannot bring me in. We've done this dance before, _mon amour_." She stepped closer, putting the barrel to her own head. "Unless you can finally bring yourself to shoot? _Non_ , I think not."

Tracer lowered the gun. Her entire body was shaking. "I might not be able ta shoot ya, love... but that doesn't mean you're not coming with me. I ain't lettin' ya slip away again." Fire surged through her veins at her own words; her conviction gave her strength. It bolstered her courage enough to swing her gun like a club, knocking Amélie down and mostly out. Tracer bent down, handcuffing her wrists together.  " _Je t’aime, mais je ne vais pas te perdre._ "

The French flowed easily from her lips, especially around her former teacher. Widowmaker's eyes grew wide at the admission, despite her struggle to remain conscious. She felt something break inside her at the words. Like part of her facade had been shattered. As darkness claimed her, the last thoughts in her mind were: “ _Tu m'aimes toujours? Encore aujourd’hui?_ "


	5. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra finds her 'Walk of Shame' to be much less shameful than expected.

Satya rose from the bed groggily, pulling herself from the warm embrace that had soothed her to sleep the previous night.

‘That was hardly the only reason I slept so well, though.' Her smirk grew as she remembered the lovemaking session from last night.

'Or, afternoon I suppose,' she mused as she slipped on her dress. 'I wonder what people will say, hmm? The prodigal daughter leaving the room of the largest troublemaker in the school like some harlot.'

She couldn't help but laugh to herself at the thought, slipping her tights on as well. 'I do not care. Jamie and I are in love and are adults. They will have to deal.' Her eyes lit up as she gazed at his sleeping form, curled up and missing her warmth already. Her heart swelled at the thought of finally going public. There would be no need for clandestine meetups or lying about their relationship. They would be free to show affection whenever they were comfortable.

"Well... it's showtime."

She slipped out the door, her heels radiating authority and drawing stares from anyone in the hall of the male dormitories.

"Wait... is that Satya?"

"Was that Junk's room?"

Yet she felt no shame, and even savoured the surprised whispers. She felt free.

Once news had gotten around to her friends, she'd been cornered by them, but all she did was smile and say, "Oh, you mean 'did I spend the night with my boyfriend, Jamie'?" She smirked, relishing their shocked looks. "Yes. Yes I did. And we love each other very much."

 

The first thing Satya noticed after her 'walk of shame' was the looks-- some of respect, some of judgement, and some of curiosity. She figured the curiosity was about how she could be dating Jamison, of all people. Or perhaps it was a more... risqué line of thinking. She shuddered at the thought. 'I'd prefer if only Jamie thought of me in such a way. At least he makes me feel safe. Comfortable. Loved.' She smiled at the last part. _Loved_. 'I still can't believe he said it first. Of all people, I figured he'd have to be prodded into admitting it.'

Lost in the memory, she didn't notice him walk up to her and start waving his hands in front of her face. "Ey 'Metra? Earth ta 'Metra!" He grinned as he spoke, excited to see her. "C’mon, love. I know yer in there!"

Her lips spread into a thin smile, her reverie broken; however, she was intent on teasing him.

Upon seeing the smile, he decided being forward was the best way to get her attention, so he kissed her--where everyone could see. 'This'll get her attention fer sure!' And did it ever. But instead of pulling away like he'd expected, she kissed back, pulling him into an embrace.

When they pulled apart, she was flushed red, a cross between embarrassment and desire. "I cannot believe I just did that... I cannot believe that I just did that...!" Despite her words, she was smiling, though clearly a bit uncomfortable.

"Never thought PDA would be yer thing, love. I like it!" He grinned, kissing her forehead. "But, ah... we can skip it if it makes ya turn into a broken record like this."

 She flashed him a look. "Jamie. I am hardly a woman used to showing affection, period." Her cheeks had become a deeper red. "But I suppose that for you... I can make the occasional exception. Just... I will make sure there are less people next time." She exhaled sharply, but wore a small smile as he nodded and slipped his hand into hers.

"Whatevah works for you, darlin'. I ain't in the business of pushin' my lady around."


End file.
